New
by NotAContrivance
Summary: Harriet meets Knightley, spills coffee on him, and tries to get her bearings. He attempts to warn her about Emma. As for Emma, well, she's a little too invested in Knightley's pants. Emma Approved.


So, literally just after I swore I had no ideas and said I wasn't going to write fic, I got one. And this happened. I blame Knightley's pants. That was really just too good an opening to resist.

So, anyway, this takes place after Episode 3. Like, right after. And is partly inspired by Emma and Knightley's slightly hilarious twitter exchange about his pants and Harriet. Anyway, I just felt like Harriet and Knightley needed to talk about Emma. Because I think Knightley would want to give her a heads-up. I basically feel bad for Harriet already because I know what it's like to be an assistant, and I can kind of tell that Emma is not going to be a great boss. I also kind of wanted to show some of the sides to Knightley that we haven't yet gotten to see because he is my favorite, and we haven't seen him around anyone other than Emma yet. And I'm kind of taking some liberties with Knightley's office and his and Emma's roles in the company, all of which are sort of... murky. Oh, and the pair of pants at the end is supposed to be the one from Monday's episode.

Anyway, hope you enjoy. Review if you like. I do not own Emma Approved, nor do I own its source material. Also, I realize in retrospect that part of this story is kinda similar to thoughtsthatfester's "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk to you more," (sorry!) which is unintentional and largely a result of the fact that there is a limited amount of things one can write about Knightley's pants.

* * *

Harriet Smith rounded the corners of the massive white hallways, trying not to get lost. It didn't help that all of the doors were white too and blended into the walls. She had no idea where Mr. Knightley's office was, and she presently felt a little bit like a lab rat in a maze. Eventually, though, when it seemed she was at the other end of the floor, she saw a door that was slightly ajar. Unlike Emma's door, this one had a name plaque on it that read _Alexander Knightley, Chief Financial and Operating Officer_. When she saw it, she very much doubted that it was something Emma had put up, unlike the decor in the rest of the office space, since it was dark and just slightly crooked.

She approached the door and knocked on it timidly. Knightley was sifting through papers and made a vague noise of assent. He knew it wasn't Emma, who never left her office unless she could help it. She would never bother knocking, as he did. "Mr. Knightley?" Harriet asked, peering through the crack. She saw a dark-haired man in a pale violet shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was half-hidden behind his computer and bent over stacks and stacks of paper.

"You can just come in," he remarked distractedly, setting some papers down and turning back to his computer spreadsheets. Just managing Emma's budgets was exhausting, not to mention having to track down all of the things she hid from him, knowing he would disapprove. He was still trying to sort out the expenses for her last client in the confusing shuffle of bills Emma had thrust at him.

Harriet nibbled on her bottom lip, hesitating for a moment before she pushed the door open and walked inside. She walked so quietly, almost like a mouse, that Knightley didn't look up until she was in front of him, clearing her throat. He blinked, staring at her expectantly. She was pretty, if a bit informal and young, he thought. Probably not one of Emma's clients, then, though he still wouldn't put it past Emma to once again try and set him up. Not that that had ever gone well.

Harriet, the poor thing, was too anxious to even dare tapping him on the shoulder. She was trying to suppress the feeling that she was terribly out of her depth here and maybe in a bit over her head, as excited as she was to get the job. "Hi," she said awkwardly, giving him a little wave. He was cuter and younger than she'd expected. He had friendly eyes. From the descriptions she'd expected someone around thirty-seven or thirty-eight at least, if not a great deal older. Harriet hadn't actually been able to find much information on him, but she knew enough to know it was important to impress him. Knightley raised an eyebrow in question, motioning for her to introduce herself. "Sorry. I'm Harriet, Harriet Smith," she said, smiling uncomfortably. She held her free hand out for him to shake.

Knightley grinned, straightening a little, (not so) secretly pleased that Emma had taken his suggestion. He set the rest of his paperwork down so he could shake her hand. His grip was firm. Harriet hoped her palms weren't sweaty. She wasn't sure what to do with him smiling at her like that, and his hands were so strong and warm. "I'm Miss Woodhouse's new assistant?" Her brow wrinkled slightly. "At least, I think?" Emma had said it was a trial run, right? What did that even mean?

He tilted his head to the side, feeling a pang of pity for the girl already. She really had no idea what she was getting into here. It was kind of cute how she'd said that with the little questioning inflection. He wondered idly how long she would last, if she could stand up to Emma's intensity—there was a reason she hadn't had a real assistant since Annie, after all, and it wasn't just because Emma couldn't let go. Knightley smiled at her reassuringly, relaxing a little in his chair and turning to more completely face her. "Well, Harriet, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said warmly. Harriet didn't quite know what to make of the almost mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I told Emma you were the best applicant. I'm glad she listened to me," he confessed a bit smugly. The way he said it suggested that Emma did not, perhaps, listen to him very often.

Harriet blushed and looked down. "That's very kind of you, sir." She smiled at him. "It's an honor to meet you too, Mr. Knightley." She paused for a moment, remembering the latte and glancing down at it guiltily. "Miss Woodhouse, uh, told me to bring you this," she said, gesturing to the drink. She bit down on the inside of her cheek. She didn't really want to spill the drink on Mr. Knightley. He seemed so nice already, even if Emma said that ruining his pants would be what was best for him.

Knightley was, for his part, as amused by Harriet as he expected to be. She seemed sweet, clearly overcompensating a bit because she was so new, though he would later worry at her fawning worship of Emma. She saw him raising his eyebrows in question yet again, so she hurried to speak once again and fill the silence. "It's a white chocolate latte with soy milk. I hope you like that? I got one for Miss Woodhouse too and-"

She took the latte out of the cardboard carrying container, wondering how she was going to do this. Of course, her hands were shaking, and she hadn't really eaten a lot today, so in the end her own shaky reflexes ended up taking care of everything for her. The cup slipped from her fingers and a good quarter of it spilled onto Knightley's lap. His reflexes, however, were much better than hers. He snatched the cup from midair before it could spill further, setting it down on his desk, all the while jumping up from his seat and letting out a little shout as the hot liquid hit his leg. He let out a little hiss, his face turning an interesting shade of red, and wiped some of the excess liquid away with his hand as best as he could. He then tried fanning his thigh, as if that would dissipate the burning feeling.

Harriet felt a little bad. She hoped she hadn't hurt him, but it really had been an accident. She hadn't meant to spill it on him and had all but resolved not to, even if it meant Miss Woodhouse was mad at her, when her fingers slipped. Of course he didn't know that Emma had told her to do it, but she was certain he would probably find out one way or the other. She hoped he wouldn't be mad at her when he did. She really wanted him to like her too.

She clapped a hand to her mouth, gasping in horror. "Oh, I'm so _sorry_, Mr. Knightley!" she exclaimed, immediately launching into her most heartfelt apologies, "I'm such a klutz sometimes. I hope you don't hate me already!" She spied the box of tissues on the corner of his desk and reached over to grab a handful. "Here, you just sit down," she said, motioning for him to sit, "and I'll help you clean that up, okay? I'm so _so_ sorry, really." Knightley was still grimacing, but he did as she said, easing himself back onto the chair.

Biting her lip, Harriet moved closer so that her hair was almost brushing against his face. Without thinking, she bent down a little and started dabbing at the spot on his pants with gusto. It was unfortunately closer to his crotch than either she or Alex had realized, but she was so intent on her task that she couldn't think of that. Alex, however, could, and he shifted uncomfortably. And, of course, that was precisely the moment when Emma Woodhouse came strolling into the room as if she owned the place. She looked a little pleased with herself, having heard Alex's cry of pain.

If Alex wasn't so discomfited, he might've smirked and played up the situation a bit more when he saw her. However, deep down, a part of him was still gratified when Emma's jaw dropped. "Harriet, **what** are you doing?!" she cried, stalking over to the two of them. Her heels beat out an angry staccato. Her voice had to be at least an octave higher, but he couldn't decide if that was because she was angry or flustered. "Last I checked, giving Mr. Knightley a _hand_-_job_ isn't part of your job description!"

Alex glanced up to see Harriet's face turn tomato red. She averted her gaze, clearly mortified, before whirling around to face Emma so quickly she almost felt over. Alex knew how bad it looked, especially when Emma snatched Harriet's wrist and pulled her bodily away from him. But the look on Emma's face was more thunderous than he expected, almost like she was... jealous or territorial? No, that couldn't be. She probably just thought it was unprofessional. Not that Emma had ever been even conventionally "professional." She turned the focus of her glare from Harriet to him faster than he expected, as if to say _this is why you __**really**__ wanted to hire her, isn't it?_

Knightley cleared his throat, sitting up a bit more in his chair, and spoke before Emma could say one more word. "Before you go jumping to any conclusions, it's not what it looks like, Emma," he began wearily, holding his hands up in a surrendering position. "Your assistant spilled some coffee on me and was just helping me clean up." Scowling, he gestured to the still slightly-damp latte stain on his pants. Inexplicably, Emma's lips turned upward faintly at the corners, and she perked up a bit, satisfied by something.

However, she still was giving him a look as if she didn't buy it, and it was beginning to grate on Alex. As if she didn't know what kind of man he was after all of these years? "I know better than to set myself up for a sexual harassment lawsuit on your poor assistant's first day of work," he insisted a bit irritably. "I am the _last_ person who would dip my pen in company ink, Emma," he added a bit reproachfully. He glanced back down at the stain, wondering if it would come out via a good wash or dry-cleaning. He thought it ought to. After all, it hadn't been real chocolate or grease, right? Emma relaxed a little, releasing Harriet's wrist.

Knightley frowned when he looked over and saw Harriet rubbing her wrist, which looked a little red from here. The poor girl was cradling her wrist a little and still unable to look at anyone. Emma flipped her hair over her shoulder as if bored with all of this. "Whatever, Knightley. Just try not to traumatize my assistant for life." Then Emma smiled at Harriet in a way that made her particularly uneasy. "I do kind of want to keep her around," she said, winking at Harriet as if she thought Alex wouldn't notice. The wink said she'd passed the first test. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some work to do." She grabbed Harriet's arm, already moving to the door and pulling her along. "It's super important."

Emma was surprised when Knightley stood up and moved directly into her path, intercepting her. "Actually, Emma," he said, looking from her to Harriet, "I was wondering if I could speak with Miss Smith for a little while. In private." Harriet's eyes darted to look up at him, her expression nervous and still embarrassed. Knightley tried to smile at her and let her know it was all right, but Harriet looked away before he could. Emma opened her mouth to protest, but Knightley rose to his full height and pulled out his trump card, stopping her in her tracks. "I have to talk to her about HR stuff," he continued, "you know, like payroll, compensation, and regulations?"

He could already see Emma's eyes glazing over and knew he'd won, not that he let that show. Emma huffed out a sigh. "Fine. But send her to me when you're done." She directed her gaze to Harriet. "Take everything he says with a grain of salt," she advised her. "And," Emma continued pointedly, "if Mr. Knightley makes you uncomfortable in any way, don't hesitate to let me know, and I _will_ take care of it." Knightley clenched his jaw. He knew she meant business from the slightly crazy, overprotective look in her eyes, but he was a little insulted she thought so little of him. Harriet nodded, attempting to smile as Emma turned on her heel and left.

It did not escape Alex's notice that she left the door halfway open.

Harriet didn't feel uncomfortable around Mr. Knightley, not like she thought he was going to make a move on her, so much as embarrassed at her own behavior and at Emma's reaction. He, on the other hand had been so cool and matter-of-fact about it, his feathers not even ruffled, like this was an everyday occurrence. For a moment they merely stood there in an awkward silence. Harriet swallowed hard, shifting her weight from one foot to the other uneasily. She was still unable to look at him. "I... I... I... I'm so _sorry_, Mr. Kn-nightley. That was so unprofessional, and I'm sorry I'm making such a mess of things on my first day. I completely understand if you don't ever want to-"

She stopped rambling when Knightley gently took her arm and directed her towards his couch. She sat down immediately, sinking into the soft leather. She wasn't quite relaxed, though; if she seemed to be, it was merely because her legs had almost given out on her. To Harriet's great surprise, Knightley sat down on the other side of the couch, careful to maintain a comfortable difference between them. "It's fine, really, Harriet," he assured her. "Knowing Emma as long as I have... you get used to things like that," he said, shaking his head slightly. He didn't betray the sneaking suspicion he had that her spilling coffee on him wasn't entirely accidental, largely because she looked like she was about to burst into tears at any moment.

Harriet was fairly certain she would _never_ be used to things like that. If she'd learned anything today, she'd learned that getting between Emma and Mr. Knightley was like being between a rock and a hard place—and thus best avoided. She peeked over at him but said nothing. Knightley moved a little closer. "And you can drop the Mr. Knightley business," he continued almost brusquely. She frowned up at him in confusion. He reached over to touch her arm lightly, and she tensed a little. "You've spilled coffee on me, Harriet," he replied with a smirk, "I think you can call me Alex."

If she wasn't still so mortified about it, he might've made a comment about her hand being on his upper thigh for the better part of five minutes and them being fairly well acquainted as a result, but he didn't have the urge to tease her as he did Emma. Alex was well aware he got just a little too much satisfaction out of teasing Emma. He knew why he did it, though. It was just a little too enjoyable to watch Emma's perfect false facade drop and, partly, well, as her friend, he wanted to make her life better, to borrow her own phrase.

Harriet felt her cheeks heat up and hoped her face wasn't too pink. He'd said that in such a deceptively soft voice, and his hand was still on her arm. He was her boss or something, and Emma had made it clear how she felt about any... appearance of impropriety in the workplace. It wasn't even worth entertaining a thought about him like that, as anything more than a boss. She looked away and let out a snort almost defensively.

Then she took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "Like I said, I..." She licked her lips and forced herself to look at him. "I'm sorry I spilled coffee on your pants. I'm just so _nervous_, what with it being my first day and all." She looked down and saw that she'd laced her fingers together and was twisting them. Frowning at herself, Harriet separated them and put her hands on her thighs. She scooted forward a little bit more until she was almost on the very edge of the couch. Knightley let his hand fall off of her. "And what if you and Miss Woodhouse don't like me? She already said I was on a trial run..." she added in a voice barely above a whisper.

Knightley felt another pang of pity for her, briefly regretting bringing her to Emma's attention in the first place, as competent as she seemed. He had to lean in a little to hear what she was saying, but when the words sunk in, the smile dropped right off of his face. He cocked his head to the side a little, regarding Harriet. "Trial run? She said that?" And there it was again, that disappointment at Emma sinking back into his stomach like a stone. Just whenever he thought she'd made some progress into becoming a more considerate person, more of a real serious person, she would undermine it and set all of his progress back.

He suppressed a sigh. A somewhat wary Harriet gnawed on the corner of her lip, wondering if she maybe ought not to have said that. She nodded anyway, and Knightley frowned. "I'll have to have a little chat with Emma about that," he muttered almost to himself. Harriet's eyes widened in alarm, and Alex found himself forcing a smile to set her back at ease. It didn't exactly work. The smile didn't quite sit right on his face.

They fell into an awkward silence for a few moments. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw Harriet absently running her hands down the fronts of her thighs up to her knees and back. When Harriet felt his stare, she straightened and ceased her movement. What had he wanted to discuss with her anyway? She cleared her throat loudly. "So... you said you had some HR things to talk to me about?"

Knightley had been a bit too preoccupied trying to figure her out, apparently, since he'd forgotten his original purpose for wanting to speak with her. "Oh yeah." His eyes widened a little as he got to his feet, already walking over to his desk. He began sifting through papers, searching for the ones relevant to her future employment—a W-2, contract, certain nondisclosure agreements, the release form, the paperwork to set up direct deposit. Emma periodically liked to drive him insane by reorganizing the contents of his desk and paperwork with no respect for what logically went together.

While Knightley was busy finding the necessary forms, Harriet was unabashedly staring at his ass, contemplating his khakis. The pants weren't as bad as Emma had made them out to be. They were a bit baggier than they could be, maybe a bit out of fashion or less up-to-date than they could've been. Harriet privately thought a wash could probably sort out the issues with the fit. She was trying really hard to convince herself that she was just staring at his ass to evaluate his khakis, the way Emma had earlier, but the more she looked at it, the more she admitted to herself that he did have a very nice ass... and nice broad shoulders and...

He turned around, and Harriet abruptly snapped out of her lustful stupor. She barely had enough time to direct her gaze upwards so that he didn't catch her checking him out. And she was still blushing, but she hoped he didn't notice.

Strangely, somehow he didn't notice anything amiss. Knightley attached the forms to a clipboard and handed it to her, picking a pen up off of his coffeetable so that she could sign. "Here are the forms you're supposed to fill out before you start working. It's pretty standard... your typical tax and payment forms, and then the nondisclosure agreement and release form for some of the proprietary information and documentary," he said briskly.

He pointed to the first page. "This document basically explains your rights, salary, and duties. If you have any questions, just ask." He was very proud of the handout since he'd effectively drafted their entire human resources policy. He'd given their employees more rights than Emma would've, since she was uninterested in helping him draft the policy. She was disturbingly uninterested in most of the nuts and bolts of their business or running any business, for that matter. The disinterest was the main reason why Knightley was content to just have her be the public face of the company and not the CEO.

Harriet felt a bit more overwhelmed at all this information. She wasn't sure there was enough time to read it all, but she had enough time to note the amount of sick days and vacation she was entitled to, as well as her staggeringly-high salary. She flipped through the pages, beginning to fill out the financial information. Alex licked his lips and took this opportunity to get at his real point for this conversation. "That wasn't actually all I wanted to talk you you about, though. I mostly brought up HR to get Emma to leave." Harriet was too busy slogging through forms to look up and catch the grimace on his face. "Finances and the day-to-day business of running a company kind of make Emma's head explode," he added, not without a touch of irony.

He sat down, and Harriet glanced up briefly. "What, um, what did you want to talk to me about?" She tried not to cringe at how high and croaky that had come out, turning back to the forms.

Knightley moved a little closer, pressing his hands together, thinking carefully about what he was going to say next. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Emma," he began. Harriet looked up at him, her brow furrowed slightly. While a part of her wondered what he would have to say about her new boss, knowing her as well as he obviously did, Harriet wasn't quite sure she wanted to hear it. "There are a few things about her and, more specifically, _working_ with her, that I feel like you ought to know." Harriet noticed out of the corner of her eye that he was steepling his fingers.

She swallowed hard, looking up at him. It wasn't that she was worried about what he would say, except maybe that he would tell her things Emma didn't wish her to know. Plus it wasn't very polite to talk about someone behind her back. "Oh, sir, I'm not sure that's appropri-" Harriet attempted to protest, setting the clipboard down.

He shook his head and cut her off before she could even finish the word. "It'll help put things in perspective, I promise." At Harriet's wary expression, Alex held his hands up in surrender. "Emma is my oldest and dearest friend..." he said, pressing a hand to his chest, "but that doesn't mean she doesn't still drive me crazy from time to time." He got up from his seat abruptly, finding suddenly that he needed to be moving. Alex tried not to think about how Emma knew exactly which buttons to press, how often he found himself shaking his head at something she'd done recently. She would go so, so far when she was convinced of her own rightness. With that attitude of hers, she could work him up into a near apoplectic rage (or at least irritation) without even trying.

And she knew, as he did, that he would just end up forgiving her anyway because it was impossible to stay angry with her. A moment later, after a moment of reflection, he corrected himself, "Or all of the time." Alex chuckled, lips twisting into a brief smile. Harriet didn't laugh. She was too new to get it, but eventually she would. Alex found himself almost pacing, trying to think of the right way to explain Emma to this novice. Harriet, on the other hand, just stared at him, wondering what he was trying to do and why he was being so inarticulate.

He started gesturing with his hands, folding and unfolding his fingers almost like they were claws. As he spoke, he smiled faintly. He smiled more around Emma than other people. "You have to understand, I've known her my whole life. Emma can be a lovely person, and she has a good heart underneath it all... She really and truly does want what is best." He ran a hand through his hair, pausing a moment. "But she just doesn't always get that other people don't always want what _she_ thinks is best," he explained, exhaling deeply. Harriet's lips turned down at the corners, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Emma made people's lives better. Couldn't Mr. Knightley, of all people, see that?

Alex knew from the look in her eyes that she didn't understand. Maybe he had underestimated her similarity to Emma in that particular respect—how truth to her was selective. She would bury her head in the sand whenever anyone brought up something that she didn't want to hear. He suppressed a sigh, rubbing his hands together in front of him. "And as much as I respect her..." Alex stopped for a moment, feeling that he should add something else, a word like "care" or "love" or "esteem" that might've once come so easily. But each word that came to mind seemed inadequate and got stuck in his throat somehow.

He cleared his throat, moving to sit down next to Harriet on the sofa. She tried not to move away, but she still tensed a little when he sat down. "Sometimes she goes a bit... overboard in her quest to help the world..." Harriet gave him a somewhat skeptical look, but she would understand later when one of Emma's schemes blew up in her face. He continued gesturing, his fingers spread out wide, close to his face. Harriet was a little taken aback at how animated he was getting. "She gets this idea in her head, and sometimes she gets too caught up in being right to see what's actually in front of her face."

After a moment, still sensing that Harriet didn't quite grasp what he was trying to tell her, Alex reached out and touched Harriet's arm lightly. His hand rested partly on her sleeve and partly on her bare skin. She hoped he couldn't feel the way her heart beat just a little bit faster. He frowned, thinking for a moment of how best to say it. He didn't want to scare the poor girl, but he did want her to have an idea of what she was getting into. "Emma can... overwhelm, and it's easy to get caught up in that. Just be careful." His grip on her arm tightened a little. Harriet nodded distractedly, pushing a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes.

Alex made sure to look right in her wide (slightly frightened?) eyes. He wanted her to know that she could trust him, that there would be someone she could come to, someone who would look out for her. He knew enough to know he couldn't trust Emma to act in Harriet's actual best interest. She was probably already pressuring the desperate girl into things she wasn't prepared for. "If she gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll talk to her," he promised. "And if she pressures you into _anything_ you're not comfortable doing, anything that seems unethical or illegal or just wrong... tell me, okay?" he said softly, squeezing her arm. Then he smiled at her, that smile that made Harriet's insides feel a little fluttery.

She was powerless to do much more than smile back, though she couldn't help biting her bottom lip a little. What he said, well, it kind of went against what Emma had said, and Emma was her boss, right? Harriet was still more than a bit uncertain about the power structure here at Emma Approved. She knew, of course, that Emma would ask her to do some things that were—how did she put it?—"a bit unorthodox," but unethical and illegal? She knew Emma wanted her to do anything for this job, but what exactly did that mean? Even Harriet didn't exactly know how far she was willing to go. But she didn't want Emma to fire her, which she might if Harriet went running to Knightley every time she had a problem.

He took his hand off of her arm, and Harriet released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She looked down at his pants, hoping that she would feel like a normal person again, but then she caught sight of the stain. She fumbled trying to pick up the pen and clipboard again. "I hope I didn't ruin your pants!" she exclaimed, trying to tear her eyes away from the stain, feeling guilty. "I'll _totally_ pay for the dry-cleaning bill, and I can wash them if you want-" Yes, that was what a normal person would say if they'd spilled coffee on another coworker's pants, right? If they hadn't done it on purpose? That wouldn't be suspicious at all, right?

Alex followed the direction of his gaze and looked at the light-brownish stain. It was still damp and cool. It almost blended into his khakis. "You know, Harriet," he said, smoothing his pants, "I think they'll be fine. That's totally unnecessary." She frowned slightly, wondering why he seemed so okay about it. Was he just taking pity on her because it was her first day or... did he know that Miss Woodhouse had told her to do it? "Besides," he said, getting up and walking over to his desk, "I've got an extra pair here just for occasions such as this."

He bent down to open one of his bottom drawers and pulled out a pair of pants. Harriet deliberately averted her eyes so that she wouldn't find herself staring at his ass again. This was neither the place nor time for that. Alex then unfolded and held out the other pair of khakis to show her. He liked the pair he was currently wearing more, sentimental value and all that, but this pair would do in a pinch. He'd learned long ago that it was best to always be prepared, especially when Emma was involved.

Harriet took in the sight of serious Knightley standing there with a raised brow and waving the khaki slacks like some kind of matador. The pair he was holding was more or less identical to the stained ones he was wearing. She started laughing hysterically, quickly covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound. Oh, what Emma would do if she knew he had a spare pair! She would be so angry, and she'd probably make Harriet steal them or go buy an espresso to spill on them. Harriet decided in that very minute not to tell Emma about this... partly to avoid embarrassing either herself or Alex... but also because it was kind of nice to be making decisions and having a little secret already. It felt almost like she could belong here.

Knightley's brow furrowed in confusion, but she was too busy laughing hysterically to explain. He pursed his lips but waited for her laughter to die down a little before talking. "Harriet, can you do me a favor?" he asked, setting the pants down on the table.

She immediately straightened and stopped laughing. She almost seemed serious. "Sure, Mr. Knight-" He gave her a pointed look, and Harriet corrected herself with her typical over-enthusiasm, "I mean, _Alex_. Anything!" She gave him her brightest smile. It felt sort of weird to call him by a nickname, intimate almost.

He glanced at the door, as if expecting Emma to pop in suddenly. He wouldn't have put it past her. His expression darkened a little, making Harriet's uncertainty grow. He could definitely see Emma's hand here, even if Harriet would never admit it. "Never bring me coffee again."

She stiffened slightly, frowning in a mixture of confusion and anxiety. She didn't know Mr. Knightley—Alex—well enough to judge his tones or what he meant when he said things kind of gruff like that. Harriet looked down at the ground. "Um, okay?" It came out as a squeak.

Almost immediately, he realized how his request had sounded. His Emma-induced paranoia was coloring other parts of his life in ways he didn't want it to. He was sure Emma would just love that. Alex smiled, hoping to get Harriet to relax a little. It had the opposite effect; she fidgeted uncomfortably on the couch instead. He once again suppressed a sigh. If she was this nervous around him, he could only wonder how anxious and on edge she was around Emma and her absurd standards. "You're not _my_ assistant, Harriet," he said. "Believe me, managing Emma is more than enough work for _anyone _without adding me to the mix." He would know, after all, given that he'd been unofficially "managing" Emma for most of his life without pay. "It wouldn't be fair of me to ask you to do things for me." He hoped he was successfully conveying the fact that he wasn't going to give her additional work that wasn't in her job description.

She smiled uneasily. Harriet opened her mouth to ask him why he didn't have an assistant, since she found that he already seemed far busier than Emma, but that question was probably above her pay grade. Alex walked back around to his desk, grimacing faintly as he caught sight of the half-full latte still sitting there on his desk. He didn't even like white chocolate lattes, much less ones with soy milk instead of regular. He liked black coffee. It was probably cold by now anyway. Alex threw it into his trashcan with some flourish. As he did this, he remembered something and looked over at Harriet. "Emma didn't reimburse you for the lattes, did she?"

She had been busy studying the paperwork and started a little at his sudden address. The pen skidded across the page. Harriet licked her lips, thinking it over. It was kind of strange Emma hadn't mentioned that or offered her money to pay it back. Harriet had heard the bit of reproach in his tone and sought to come to her new boss' defense. "Well, no, not yet," she said hesitantly, "but I'm sure she'll-"

She didn't get to finish her sentence, however, as Knightley once again cut her off. "She won't remember..." he said dismissively, waving it off. Emma only liked to remember "minor" details when it suited her purposes, and she didn't often realize that others didn't have the same ability as she did to take money for granted. "How much was it?" he asked, already pulling out his wallet.

Harriet blinked. She didn't remember how much the lattes had cost off the top of her head, not to mention how much trouble she had to go to to find the almond milk. She set the clipboard down. "Um, I have the receipt in my car... I can go get it and show you-" she said, motioning towards the door with her thumb and already starting to get up. She knew she shouldn't have left her purse in the car.

He shook his head, taking pity on her. "I don't need the receipt," he said, though he ordinarily would've asked for it so he could expense it. He could educate Harriet on the financial and budgetary issues later. He motioned with one hand for Harriet to come over to him, which she did somewhat reluctantly. He then started rifling through his wallet, pursing his lips as he found the right amount of bills. "This should be enough," he said, folding the bills and pressing them into her hand. He did this in a practiced, natural way that gave Harriet the impression that this was something he did often, like in fancy restaurants or with valets.

She was trying very hard not to be taken back or overwhelmed at all of the wealth that was surrounding her, but she had a feeling it would only get worse and more terribly impressive over time. She hadn't even met any of Emma's fabulously wealthy clients yet. Harriet looked down at her hand, trying not to think about the way he'd taken her hand and then pressed the money down into it, his fingers closing her hand around the bills. She tried not to think of the feeling of those smooth hands on hers, surrounding her tiny hands. She reminded herself that it was wholly inappropriate. Emma would definitely not approve.

Harriet opened her hand and unfolded the bills. He'd given her fifteen dollars, which was at least three dollars more than the drinks had cost. She pocketed the ten dollar bill and offered him the five dollar bill. "Um, but sir, it cost only-" she attempted to protest.

Once again Knightley shook his head. He could be just as imperious and bossy as Emma when he wanted to be. "Keep the change, Harriet," he said warmly. He almost said that she needed it more than he did, almost made up some lame comment about it being a payment for having to put up with Emma and filling the spot so that he was no longer her assistant, but he realized how condescending it would've sounded. He was already sure she probably wasn't being paid enough given all that she had to do and put up with. Alex pushed her hand away. "Let's just call it a tip. Or gas money. I'm sure you went to considerable trouble to get this. It's not a big deal." He smiled at her once more.

She blinked dumbly, glancing from the bill to him and back again. Eventually she got the message and slipped the five into her pocket, though she still felt a bit bad about keeping the change when she hadn't done much of anything to deserve it. Looking thoughtful, Alex picked up his pants and cleared his throat. "I should probably change, so I guess you can go back to Emma now." Harriet walked back over to the table, picking up the forms and pen.

"You can bring those to me when you're done with them. Either today or tomorrow is fine," he said, motioning to the forms. He sounded every bit like a busy, impersonal businessman rather than the man who'd reached out to her earlier. Harriet still didn't know what to make of him. He paused for a moment, straightening the wrinkles out of his pants and then setting them back down carefully. "I look forward to working with you, Harriet." He'd already begun to work on his belt buckle. Harriet stared at his hands and deft fingers, finding her throat suddenly dry.

Somehow, though, she managed to tear her gaze away from his belt and look up at his face. Maybe Harriet was projecting, but she felt utterly certain that his smile, tight as it was, was saying that he'd wanted her to get out for a while. She forced a smile back and scurried out without looking back, mumbling a vague promise to get the forms to him soon. She made sure to close the door firmly behind her. Alex stared after her, shaking his head a little.

He pulled his belt free from his belt loops, setting it on his desk and then beginning to undo his pants. He sat on the edge of his desk as he reached down to take off his shoes. Then he pushed himself away from his desk, pulling his pants down and kicking them off rather indelicately. He was glad for the relative privacy of his office at that moment (and even more glad that he'd drawn his blinds). Alex picked up the other pair of pants, undoing the zipper and holding them out in front of him so that he could step into them. It was, of course, at this precise moment that Emma came barging in.

Knowing her opinion of his taste in pants, Alex quickly hid the khakis behind his back. "**God**, Emma, would it _kill_ you to knock?!" he snapped, a bit annoyed that she'd come in at literally the worst possible time. Emma quickly surveyed the situation, noticing almost immediately that Alex was just wearing his shirt, socks, and boxers. She suppressed a smile. And maybe she stared at his sky blue boxers a bit too long, evaluating. Alex didn't notice, though, because he was busy chucking the clean pants clear across the room and behind his couch when she wasn't looking.

He bent down to pick up the pair of dirty pants, frowning at them. Emma kept staring and shrugged a slim shoulder. Her expression was almost mischievous. "Maybe it would." Just then, probably because she sensed he was going to make a comment about how she'd been a little too fixated on his crotch and ass recently, Emma pointed at his boxers. "Your boxers clash with your shirt." Knightley raised an eyebrow, noting the pinkness of her cheeks.

He very nearly made a snide comment, had the perfect one just on the tip of his tongue. It would've gone something like, "What, are you going to spill something on my underwear so I have to take them off too? Jeez, Em, if you wanted to get me out of my pants so bad, all you had to do was ask." But almost as soon as he thought it, he realized he absolutely couldn't say that to her. It was crossing a line, not to mention, well... what was he implying there? That he would jump to be naked if Emma asked? He couldn't afford to let his mind go down that track. For God's sake, this was Emma, of all people, the same Emma he'd known forever, his business partner and best friend!

He noticed then, as he was trying to get his mind off it all, that she was holding a shopping bag from J. Crew. Not quite Emma's taste. It was swinging from her index finger almost idly, as if mocking him. "Here," she said, "this is for you." She threw it high in the air to him. He caught it, staring at her dumbly. Emma responded with an impatient and yet encouraging hand gesture. "Well, go on. It's a present. Open it already!" she insisted, all but clapping her hands.

Alex blinked and then reluctantly did as she requested. Emma was relentless when it came to getting what she wanted, so there was no point in resisting. He pushed the tissue paper away, revealing a pair of trendy-looking black jeans. He reached in, picking them up gingerly between his thumb and index finger. Emma smirked, pleased. "They're just your size," she added unnecessarily. Alex raised a brow in question, wondering how exactly she'd managed to get a hold of his measurements. Emma made another impatient hand motion. "What are you waiting for, Alex? Go put them on already!" She put her hands on her hips. "It's not like you're wearing pants now."

He bit back the sarcastic remark he wanted to make about her taking a bit too much interest in his boxers. "Did you go shopping while I was talking with Harriet?" Emma shrugged, looking a bit too smug, which meant yes. He wasn't sure they'd even spoken for fifteen minutes. Alex grumbled under his breath but eventually did as she said. He was kind of powerless under that stare. He set the bag down on his desk and stepped into the pants one leg at a time, feeling incredibly undignified as he did so. Emma watched, wearing an expression of wordless glee. In fact, she hadn't stopped staring at him since she'd walked into the room, her gaze more or less fixed at his waist-level. He added abasement and objectification to the list of things he was feeling as he pulled the pants up around his waist, fastening them. He scowled, but, of course, Emma's self-satisfied grin only widened.

Alex noticed right away how tight the pants were. He liked his pants a bit looser, and, while Emma hadn't gotten him skinny jeans... they were too close to that for comfort. "They're a bit, um, tight," he managed. He made a face and shifted uncomfortably, doing his best to adjust the pants. They were so tight he wouldn't even need to bother with a belt.

Emma seemed to be viscerally enjoying his discomfort. She merely tossed her hair self-righteously. "I know," she said in a tone that was both matter-of-fact and a bit too appreciative for his tastes. Her eyes scanned him from the waist down. "It's a good look on you, Alex. Very GQ," she said breezily, motioning for him to turn, "Can you turn around? I want to check out your ass." She said it so pointedly, with one arm crossed over her chest, that there was no way he could mistake the sarcasm in her voice. She raised her eyebrows in challenge when he met her gaze.

"Is that seriously what this is about? You had your assistant ruin my pants because I called you on checking out my ass? _Seriously_?" he asked incredulously. He almost pointed out that it was hardly the first time he'd caught her staring at his ass, but he didn't want to make this worse on himself. For that matter, it wasn't like he didn't... discreetly appreciate Emma's curves sometimes, not that he broadcast that fact.

Emma scoffed, straightening her jacket primly like she had earlier. She was stone-faced but determined-looking, which meant she had at least one other reason. "Please, Knightley. I'm just making your life better." She motioned to his pants. "By giving you a free fashion upgrade, in your case. Which you need. Khakis are for dorks. I mean, what is it, 1986?" she retorted, turning up her nose at him. Emma smiled privately to herself, taking out her phone and snapping a picture of him before he could move to block the shot.

Alex then looked down at the pants he was wearing for the first time and grimaced. "Are these a pair of _your_ skinny jeans?" Emma let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and an offended huff. The only good thing about them was that they were black. Otherwise, they more or less clung to his skin. He looked over at her. "There's no way I can wear these. You can see what kind of underwear I'm wearing," he protested, crossing his arms over his chest uncomfortably. He just barely managed to resist putting his hands over his crotch. Emma snickered. Alex glowered at her. "Em-_ma_..."

After a while, Emma sighed wearily. "I know, Alex," she said, resigned. "You're so predictable." She motioned to the bag again. "Check in the bottom of the bag. Under the rest of the tissue paper," she ordered. His brow furrowed in bewilderment, but he picked up the bag and gently pushed the tissue paper at the bottom aside. This revealed, somewhat to his amazement, a pair of black pants-actual work slacks this time. "They're chinos," Emma added, as if bored.

She came a little closer, pulling the pants out of the bag and holding them out in front of her so that he could see they weren't as tight-fitting as the last pair. "See? Relaxed fit, just how you like them." He stared at her mutely, surprised. Most of the time he thought he knew Emma well enough to see everything she did coming, but sometimes, like this, she would do something he wasn't expecting, and it was sort of nice. She rolled her eyes at his unresponsiveness. "Oh, come on," she insisted, shoving him and pushing the pants into his hands. "These pants are Emma approved! Try them on before I leave. I want to make sure you don't look like an accountant in them."

He made a face at her. "Pushy, aren't we?" He barely had time to turn away before Emma shoved him again. Alex suppressed a sigh but set the pants and the bag on his desk, quickly beginning to undo his pants. He didn't exactly feel comfortable undressing in front of Emma. As much as she was a sister to him, she wasn't, really... and it was still sort of weird to undress in front of one's family members anyway. Emma watched as he shimmied out of the pants with some difficulty. She at least had the decency to stifle her laughter, though she didn't do a particularly good job of it. Alex felt, perhaps, even more ridiculous getting out of the pants than he had wearing them.

He made a face at her when he was free of them, victoriously throwing the black pants to the ground. He actually preferred no pants to those ones. Alex then slipped on the pair of new pants a bit warily. He was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable and loose-fitting they were. They were actually looser than the pants he'd let her think she ruined. Not to mention the fact that they were work-appropriate (by his standards, not Emma's), and he could wear a belt with them. He looked down, starting to tuck his shirt into his pants. "You like them," Emma observed, not without a little smugness.

He ignored her, picking up his belt and beginning to thread it through his belt loops. When he was done, Emma reached out to straighten his shirt, playfully tugging at the waist of his slacks. "See, comfortable _and_ professional!" Alex let out a low chuckle. She stared at him expectantly, with a knowing little sparkle in her eyes. "Now, I believe someone owes me a thank you?" she said pointedly, tapping her heel on the ground impatiently.

Alex rolled his eyes but eventually complied. She did have his best interest at heart, after all, and she had eventually gone with something he wanted... once you got past the whole underhanded ploy of having her assistant spill coffee on him to ruin his pants. He almost couldn't believe he was going to thank her for it, but she had done something nice for him... in her own Emma way. "Thanks for the pants, Emma," he said a bit unwillingly, putting a hand on her shoulder, lightly squeezing it. Emma preened a little bit under the attention, grinning back at him. He thought for a moment of kissing her on the cheek, but he didn't really do things like that. "You do have good taste, as much as I hate to admit it."

"I know." Emma tilted her head to the side, giving him a look like he was very sad or very sadly mistaken. She shook her head faintly. Then she bent down and picked up the black pants he'd discarded. If Alex looked at her ass while she did so, he knew enough to avert his gaze before she could catch him staring. She straightened and smoothed the wrinkles in the pants, folding them. He watched, mesmerized, as she ran her hands over the fabric.

She reached past him, brushing against his side, startling him back into attention. He realized a few moments too late that she was grabbing the bag the clothes had come in and depositing the black slacks in it. Emma tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Well, Knightley, as fun as this has been, I have a wedding to save..." She gestured to his desk with a dismissive flicking gesture of her fingers. "And you have to get back to your boring stuff." She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

He opened his mouth to protest that his work was actually important and vital to their company, but Emma was already brushing past him out the door. There was no point in protesting now, not when she had such a short attention-span. She turned around, though, at almost the last second, in his doorway. "Oh, Alex, when are you going to learn that I'm always right?" She said it in a smug sort of sing-song voice, the exact sort of tone that drove him crazy.

"You're not!" he shouted after her in a futile attempt to get the last word. But Emma had already turned her back on him, and he was rewarded by the sound of her victorious laughter echoing down the hallway.

- Loren ;*


End file.
